


wrongs, rights, and love

by emassrelayz



Series: Good Liars (but they get angry, too) [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Universe, F/F, after they get a HOUSE, have some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 10:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20006452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emassrelayz/pseuds/emassrelayz
Summary: Five times Beau wants to do something good while thinking she did everything wrong.And one where Beau feels like she did everything right.





	wrongs, rights, and love

* * *

**1.**

“Everything ready?”

Beau slang her satchel over her shoulder. Her father looked at her from the door of her room, arms crossed. Nothing hinting at him wanting to get closer than that.

“I guess.”

The man nodded. “Very good,” he said, “they’re waiting outside with your horse.”

Beau picked at her nails. “Sure.” She fixed the satchel, the strap around her hand, tighter than necessary. Her knuckles white, the scars glowing of unseen resent.

She walked past the old man and stopped in the corridor. Maybe a goodbye that was better than “see ya” should have made the trick. Maybe a pat on the shoulder. Maybe a forced half hug.

“Beauregard, they’re waiting.”

“See ya, old man,” she said. And walked out of the house.

* * *

**2.**

Molly said that he liked to leave every city better than he had found it, and when he had said that, it didn’t stick much. Not at the time. Or maybe it did, but Beau thought of it as just what happened if they got paid. Everyone had to make a living somehow. Right?

But when that evening, Caleb’s past ghosts came vomiting out of his mouth like someone’s need to throw embers around with their bare hands as long as they didn’t stay in those wounded palms, Beau thought that maybe she could just be a good ear for troubled minds.

Molly was too busy avoiding his own truth, but in his case she envied that kind of privilege. Not having to prove yourself to be good simply because you can’t remember what you did wrong.

And yet she felt like her father deserved to be the one who had birthed “an unruly rebel who spilled a lot of broken noses and blood in the taverns of the city”. Did he? She wasn’t all that great, was she? So a man who didn’t do much of anything deserved to be her father after all, didn’t he? Making amends was her job, not his. So maybe, just maybe, the fact that she was trying to make amends to begin with made her not that bad. Right?

Caleb and Nott certainly didn’t feel like she didn’t have the right to be there and be in on a _big secret_. Or at least, Caleb didn’t feel like she didn’t belong there. The man was, in lack of a more intellectual expression (not that Beau would have gone out of her way to find one), practical. And also enigmatic, but in a way much different than Beau’s. He clearly had some heavy shit to hide from, meanwhile the only things Beau was hiding from was her own guilt. And a lack of that self worth she felt like she didn’t really lack, especially when you have none to begin with.

Or maybe he just needed someone to talk to. And Nott wasn’t enough. Or maybe he was just keeping his word, and she was just the receiver of that. Had Jester done the deal, would he be spilling his guts to her now? Or Fjord? Or even Molly?

Maybe Caleb just counted on her as a resource and nothing else. Or maybe he just felt like he could trust her.

_That makes one of us, my friend._

* * *

**3.**

Beau should have taken Molly’s death as a clue to just pack up and go. They all were people with some talents to their name and made some good coin out of it. And in the meantime had _helped people_? Which was more than Beau could have asked for. Her dad would have been - proud?

But Molly’s pierced chest glared at her, liquid bloody eye that cried guts and a life which just the night before she had started to learn something about, and relate to. His scarlet eyes stared at the sky, dull, the vermillion empty of light, his arms abandoned on his sides, blood dripping from the side of his mouth. The once white overblown shirt torn asunder by gore and the blade cuts.

Caleb and Nott looked at it, Caleb’s face ashen with fear and, knowing him, a reminder of guilt. Keg was knees down on the ground, sobbing. And Beau couldn’t see anything else.

She marched towards Keg and lifted her by the collar and slammed her into the ground.

“You think about telling us that Lorenzo was a fucking - high magic user-”

“Beau-”

Beau pulled the collar against Keg’s chin. “Or are you still working with them?”

“I didn’t _know_ ,” Keg said, her voice firm. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Beauregard, she would have told us,” said Caleb with finalty. “She wouldn’t have been able to hide.”

Beau shook her fist and let go. Molly’s tapestry still laid on the horse and Beau marched to go and grab it, her eyes blurry.

Keg had offered her life to save them. She didn’t even know them. But she was willing to let someone who had done her wrong kill her just so they could live. Beau knew that had to count for something. A complete stranger. And they could have just left, all of them. And leave the others to those people’s mercy. They could just go back to live each their own life.

But their friends were missing. And a stranger had tried to save their asses just out of - out of what? Self-loathing? Need for redemption? Beau wasn’t going to project her own issues on others, and yet. She couldn’t help it.

Nor could she help the fact that they needed to get their friends back. Her friends. That’s why she couldn’t help it.

* * *

**4.**

Beau figured there were a lot of things that could happen on a stolen ship. One of them was finding an unknown guest that gave Nott a run for her money in terms of rogue accuracy. But none of them included the whole lot of them being somehow sucked into an alternate dimension, in the den of what was probably some kind of mage, and fighting their lives away from a dragon’s grasp in order to get out of there.

And among those things, Beau thought that the party wouldn’t leave anyone behind anymore. And yet, Jester had almost died. Alone. Because they left all before her. But Beau figured that was one of the many things she was going to put away in a mental chest with “mistakes” written on it with fire branding. Forever there and just another thing she managed to do wrong.

So that night on the ship, she found Jester on the deck, looking at the water below. And what was she going to say? _Sorry that we left you behind, Jester, we’re stupid._ No, nobody knew how any of that was going to work in the first place, so maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. _Are you okay? That must have been scary._ Prying too much? Beau didn’t think she was that kind of friend just yet - oh. Maybe that’s what she could have said. Offering a friend to talk to. Not the best friend, but a friend. Beau didn’t feel like she met the “best friend” requirements for anyone just yet. Maybe just Caleb, but Caleb was possibly just as damaged as she was, if not more, so that worked out alright.

But yeah, she could offer friendship. An ear. Somewhat.

But when Jester hugged her from behind, Beau realized that maybe she had offered something that Jester already considered her to be. Maybe they had been friends for a while already, longer than anything Beau could have hoped for.

* * *

**5.**

If she had been told that she would have been a hero for the Kryn Dynasty a week ago, Beau would have just thought they were being pranked, all of them. That the sky had darkened over because that was a suggestion so ridiculous that strange phenomena would occur just to remind her that reality was as fake as their lives so far. And yet, here they were, in a mix of outlandish, hysterical situations that had led them in a position where “conflict of interest” was the understatement of the century. But, she figured, that was better than ending up in jail and possibly killed as spies. Caleb had done the right call.

Especially since now they were not in jail but in a new house, given by them for their services. Divvying up sleeping places instead of rotting in jail waiting for your fate was the best of two options and Beau was okay with that.

What she wasn’t okay with, however, was the fact that Jester didn’t even stop to think about it when she and her kind of silently went with the “we’re going to be roommates” agreement. The only ones sharing a room in a house full of single bedrooms. And she wasn’t okay with it in the “I don’t want to sleep in the same room as Jester because I don’t like her” kind of way. She didn’t mind Jester. Jester was a good ally when you were in a tight spot and a kind person when you needed someone to be your friend.

Beau didn’t mind Jester, at all. She could go as far as to say that she kind of - in a way - liked Jester. She liked the fact that Jester took people’s words and actions at face value, that she just judged someone for what they did now, and didn’t care to ask about the past. And even when she did, it was just so she could let that person vent about, and she would still not judge. She liked Jester supporting her when someone else wasn’t being supportive. She liked Jester being _good_. Not just to her but to anybody. Jester was just - kind. And Beau liked that the most about her.

So, really, she didn’t like the room arrangements because she thought that Jester deserved her own space and not to share any more of that than she needed to do with Beau. So why did Jester agree to it?

After everyone decided to go to bed for the night - the first night in the new house, Beau and Jester walked to the their room.

“This is so amazing, Beau, I’ve never had a house that was just mine,” Jester said, and she threw herself face first into the bed - the beds that were going to need changing, by the sound Jester’s made when she landed on it.

“Me neither,” Beau said, and she closed the door behind her. But kept her hand on the handle.

“Beau, is something wrong?”

Beau turned to Jester. She was holding herself up on her elbows on the bed and looked at her, her eyebrows knitted with concern.

“Oh, uh - I was just thinking.”

Jester kept silent and just looked at her, probably waiting for Beau to continue. And so she did.

“I don’t think this,” and Beau gestured around them, “is a good idea.”

“What do you mean?” Beau asked and she sat up. “Do we have to pick another room?”

Beau shook her head. “No, just - why don’t you pick a room just for yourself?”

“You don’t want to be roommates?” Jester said in a dejected voice.

What was she going to say? That she didn’t want to be roommates? Because Beau did. She _really_ did. But maybe Jester didn’t want to. Maybe she was just being nice. Maybe Jester loved people way too much to realize that sometimes some people just should be left alone because they need to redeem themselves. Beau still needed to redeem herself, she still had to try and do some good, she still didn’t deserve this treatment - she still didn’t deserve Jester. Something hit Beau in the face like a ton of bricks.

“Beau.”

Beau stared at Jester, her throat dry. “Yeah?”

“I really want to be roommates.”

“I know, but you could use some space, you’re used to your own room and all-”

Jester stood up and walked towards Beau. She took the hand on the handle between hers and held it tight. It felt warm. It felt good. Maybe home felt a bit like that, too.

“I’ve been alone in my room literally my whole life, Beau,” Jester whispered, and gave her a small smile. “Will you, Beauregard something something, be my roommate?”

Beau blinked at that. “What the hell, why are you _asking_?”

“Because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to sleep in a room alone anymore.”

Beau pulled her hand away from Jester’s and walked to her bed, hoping the redness on her cheeks and her embarrassment didn’t show.

“Fine, but the dog sleeps outside.”

* * *

**6.**

“Beau.”

“Hm.”

She heard rustling of sheets in the room. “I don’t think I know much at all about love.”

Beau’s eyes hot open, the darkness of the room surrounding her sight. She turned around towards Jester’s bed. This conversation was somewhat _familiar_.

“Uh, didn’t you say you already know everything and that it doesn’t matter?”

Jester _huffed_ . “Yeah, I mean, I _do_ , but that’s just - not real.”

“You mean the porn books.”

“They’re not porn books, stop it!”

And a pillow landed on her face.

“Oh, that hurts, Jester. So painful,” Beau deadpanned.

“So, anyway, I don’t know much about love.”

“Uh-huh,” she pulled the pillow from her face and under her head. “What makes you say that? I’m not giving you this back, by the way.”

“Mean. And I don’t know, really. I guess - the way Nott and Yeza act around one another, or the way mom always speaks of my dad. It feels like I know nothing about that.”

Silence dropped on the two of them. Did Beau really want to tackle this discussion again? Especially after her latest personal breakthroughs. Or, as she liked to call them, the potential threats. Beau didn’t do feelings. Or love. Well, in a way she did do love as in she loved this group of people she had grew to consider family. Much better than whoever she was related with by blood. Blood meant nothing, nothing at all, and being proven right by her friends was somewhat of a small victory against her dad. It felt hers. It felt right. But _love_? The “I want to stare into your eyes until we fall asleep or kiss our faces off” love? Nah. Sex, she could do. And she did, plenty of it. But love felt like the way Jester lying in bed in the same room as her made her feel - nervous. Uneasy. Anxious. And, quite frankly, real fucking good and terrifying at the same time.

“Beau, are you asleep?”

Beau rubbed the bridge of her nose and sighed. “No, Jester.”

“Sorry, do you just want to sleep? I’ll let you sleep.”

“No, Jester, I’m fine. I’m just - thinking about an answer.”

“Oh.”

“I think,” Beau started and then stopped. She cleared her throat and started again. “I think you know more than you realize.”

Her eyes now adjusted to the dark, she saw Jester sit up and look at her. Damn darkvision.

“How so?”

“Because you love everybody.”

Jester stared at her and then looked at her legs, her hands in her lap. “That’s not the love I mean, though.”

“Any kind of love is important, so you know lots about it.”

Jester played with her gown in her lap. “But I want to know about the one Nott and mom know about. I want to know what it feels like to _belong_ to somebody.”

Beau’s stomach sank. Belong. Is that what she felt? Like she _belonged_ to that group of people? To Jester? Like she would go anywhere in the world as long as she was with them - she was already doing that, wasn’t she?

“I feel like you all are a big part of my life,” Beau said, her eyes on Jester. “I feel like I wouldn’t mind if we stayed together for another year or ten.”

“Like we’re family?”

“Yeah - I mean, no, my family is another one, somewhere else, but they kinda suck, so.”

Jester nodded and pulled her legs crossed under herself on the bed. She looked pensive. Like she wanted to keep talking, but didn’t quite know what she wanted to say. Or maybe she wanted to say something specific. Silent Jester was a rare occurrence.

“I’ve told this to Nott already, but I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Beau thought she was going to die before the night was over. She hold herself from clearing her throat.

“Never?”

“I mean, Fjord kissed me to keep me from not drowning but that doesn’t count, right?”

“Yeah, no,” Beau said, both out of logic and out of denial. “That’s weird, though.”

“What is weird?”

“That you’ve never kissed anyone.”

Jester crossed her arms in disapproval. “Well, some people are like that.”

“No, I mean - fuck, well, like. You’re cute. That’s why.”

“I’m - wait, you think I’m cute?”

Beau regretted all of it but she couldn’t take it back. Out with it. “Yeah. I think you’re beautiful.”

Jester eyes fixed her with a long look. Her hands on the edge of the bed, her ankles crossed. Beau’s face burned like she had kept herself near a fire for too long. Jester stood up and made her way to Beau’s bed. Beau’s face grew even hotter when Jester sat at the edge of her bed, her hands in her lap, her eyes down.

“Beauregard,” Jester said, a whisper full of guilt.

Beau for a moment forgot what was going on because she hadn’t heard her full name being said by anyone in the group in a long time. The only times were Caleb pulling her aside to talk to her about something serious. But Jester had never done that. Not with that voice. Not with _any_ voice. Jester saying her name like _that_ was all kinds of alarm bells ringing into her head like a dissonant message.

But she couldn’t say anything else beside, “Yeah?”

“Is it bad that I really really really want to kiss you?”

She - what?

“I - that depends?”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t know what’s going on, and I just kind of find you very attractive and nice and you’re always checking out on people and try your best and you just look very cool when you’re fighting, and then when we go to sleep you put your hair down, and I look at you and all I want is to _touch you_ and I -”

“Okay, stop or I’m going to have an aneurysm.”

Jester turned silent, but looked at her. Her eyes like the wells where the starry night sky kisses the earth, a mirror into higher things, a window into the heavens. And right now a mirror into Beau’s deepest desires.

“I mean,” Beau started and then cleared her voice and lowered her voice. “I mean, it’s not bad. You can, you know - want to kiss people. If you find them attractive, and stuff.”

Jester nods, her eyes open and, in lack of a less wishful thinking word - hopeful.

Beau opened her mouth and then closed it. She looked away and sighed.

“Jester, you’re making this so hard.”

“Oh no, I’m sorry, what did I do?” Jester spinned around and turned her body fully towards Beau.

“You’ve done _nothing_ , it’s just,” Beau looked for words. In her negativity. In her memories. She looked for all the words. And just like many times, she didn’t find any. She looked up at Jester, who just embraced her stare with hers. And something in Beau just snapped.

She pushed the sheets away and sat up, and mirrored Jester’s cross legged position.

“Jester, I,” Beau looked down at her hands. “It’s so hard to look at you right now because I feel like I’m going to do something wrong if I do.”

“Oh, Beau,” she heard Jester’s endeared voice. And then her voice came in a whisper, much closer. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

Beau looked up and Jester was just a palm away from her. Those blue eyes shone, and they would have been flat and smooth like the water of a lake, but Jester’s smile pulled them up. It made them even more alive.

“You know, my mom told me something once,” Jester whispered, her nose barely touching Beau’s.

Beau swallowed. She really was ready to die, but be content about it. “Which is what?”

“That before kissing someone, I should tell them how I feel,” her breath touched Beau’s lips.

She bit on them. “That’s - good advice.”

Jester nodded. They looked at one another, the only sound the silence of the night. And their quiet breathing.

“Beau, you make me feel like I know what love is.”

Jester’s lips were _right there_. “And which love is that?”

“The kind where I want you to kiss me because I can’t imagine anyone else doing it. But just if you want it, too.

Beau grabbed her face and answered for her.

Many things Beau didn’t feel she could do right, and many things she felt like she had done wrong and tried to fix, to no avail. Many things that just went wrong even if Beau had tried to do them right, so many that maybe she wasn’t sure if she could do right by anything at this point.

But this one? This one felt not like a mistake, not like she didn't deserve it. It just felt like she was loved. Like she was right.

**Author's Note:**

> here's a word vomit of I Love These Two So Much Thanks
> 
> hope you enjoyed it
> 
> HAPPY BEAUJESTER WEEK! be gay do crime


End file.
